I'm the Broomstick?
by DreadingTheDayWhenYou'reGone
Summary: Oliver Wood and Elanor Esp have been "friends" for a while now, and she's there frequently to comfort his incredible ideas about Quidditch. He's there to say dumb things and owe her two Butterbeers. . . and a Charms essay.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey yo I wrote an almost smutty fic because I am rereading Prisoner of Azkaban and was like oh no Oliver, drowning in the showers. What if a bb showed up and was like comfort sex. But I didn't actually fully write sex yet . . .more to come. Thanks.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

"I understand how important Quidditch is to you, especially because you're in your final year. But there's other things to focus on," Elanor began, leaning back against her chair in the library.

Oliver huffed, crossed his arms, and stared at the Ravenclaw. "Like what?"

"You're in _seventh year_!"

"Meaning, this is my last year to win the Cup. It's all I'm worth right now. We have the best team, no offense, but we have three great Chasers, the Weasley's, and Harry fuckin' Potter. We should be able to win this," Oliver insisted, pushing his books across the table. "Plus, you're in your sixth year. Why should you care?"

"First of all, I'm caring because you should be. Second of all, learning is important, you have your N.E.W.T.s in the spring. Third of all -"

"I don't have to take those. I just really need to make it to the end of the year, with a winning team! That's all I need to do! Practices three times a week, run them through routines, maneuvers, preparations to beat Slytherin in the first match, and then Ravenclaw - sorry again - and then Hufflepuff. Easy."

"Then why did you agree to meet in the library?" A half smirk, which caused Elanor to blush and glance down at her textbooks. "Okay, come on. Professor Flitwick is having us write another paper and I can't afford to lose time on it."

"Maybe you shouldn't take your N.E.W.T.s either. It makes life, and school, a whole lot more interesting. 3D is open, I hear."

"And so do all the hall monitors, Flinch, his cat, Percy, all the teachers, anyone that's ever snogged there before, their mum's, dad's, You-Know-Who, _all the teachers_," she started listing, looking around for the librarian to yell at them. "What I'm saying if you want to snog, you need to think of someplace else, Oliver. Or Wood is just going to stay your last name."

He let out a hearty laugh, echoing off the bookshelves and causing a "ssh" to come right back. "No laughing!" Pince shrilled, coming rapidly around the corner.

"Sorry, ma'am. There was an interesting bit of information in Ms. Esp's charms book," Oliver said, smiling that damn smile of his.

"Keep it quiet, then." And the librarian was gone back to her labyrinth of a home, wandering the shelves and hushing anyone else that dared speak up.

"And, no, I don't want to go to one of the unused bathrooms again. It was uncomfortable," Elanor hissed.

"You're just mad that you slipped, and we still don't know if it was pee or just water!" Another snicker, and Elanor quickly thumped him with her roll of parchment.

"It wasn't funny!"

"Fine. Lost Wands? Nobody's there around this time. Plus the only person that loses things is Longbottom, that third year, and he never thinks to check there."

"You owe me, Wood. You owe me one whole essay's worth of things," she stated, gathering her things and putting them away. "You owe me two Butterbeers, a new hair pin, a nice tea, and a whole essay's worth of things."

"Quit keeping track," he said, standing up and pulling her chair out, kissing her neck and grabbing her bag. "It makes me look like a bad boyfriend."

Snatching her bag back, Elanor pushed her chair in and pointed a finger at him. "That's because you're not my boyfriend. That's not a thing, Oliver. I thought we talked about this." Her voice was raising, and she stood against the table they were just at.

A pout, another loud ssh from across the library. Oliver glared in Pince's general direction and ushered Elanor out the library. "I'm just saying, with my seventh year coming to a close -"

"It's just October, Wood. You have months."

At the start of the walkway up to the Lost Wands room, Oliver stood in front of her to make her stop. "I'm just saying, that if you want, when I graduate and go off to be a great Quidditch player, on one of the greatest teams - because I'm on it, of course, we can, keep in touch."

A sigh, and Elanor leaned back against the staircase as it shuddered, swirling around to face another side of the castle. "What do you want from me, Oliver? Because you act like both. You act like you want me in a relationship with you, and then you step back at the very thought of being seen in public with me. Do you want me to be just yours, no other snogging with other people? Because you were fine with it before this year - at least I thought so. And then when it came towards me being with one of the girls on the Ravenclaw team -"

"It was Cho Chang! Elanor! You made out with fuckin' Cho Chang!" She turned away from him, starting back up the stairs and away from where the Lost Wands room was. Elanor wasn't blushing, but her face was red red red from anger. Obviously, a sore subject. Before, Elanor's stomach had been bubbly from the anxiety of being alone with Oliver, with the images of his hands touching her and them being so close and - and then he mentioned Cho and her stomach had gotten worse worse worse.

She stomped up the stairs, making her way towards the Ravenclaw Common Room. Her mind had shoved Oliver out of the room, off the staircase, and she had moved her thoughts towards her Charms essay. Oliver was still behind her, huffing and trying to think of something that wasn't - wasn't so cruel and simple minded.

"It's not that you made out with someone else," he started, spiriting up the stairs and catching her on a landing. There were portraits staring at them, whispering to each other. Elanor glared straight at one of the milkmaids behind her, and they blushed and got back to milking.

"Was it because it was a girl?" She had already had this conversation with herself, with her mother. And she didn't want to have this with _him. _

"No! It was because she's on the Ravenclaw team! It would be like if you snogged Diggory, or Malfoy, or the Weasleys."

"Oh, so you just have a monopoly on the Quidditch teams?" She smirked, eyeing how his fingers twitched and grabbed her upper arm, not too hard. He squeezed and smiled back at her.

"I do have a monopoly on who you kiss, if it involves Quidditch. What if you give away my tactics, my plans?" Elanor rolled her eyes at him, the grin widening. She grabbed his hip and pulled him closer to her, kissing him quickly on the lips and pushing him back away.

"Your plans are straight out of the beginner's book, Wood." And she patted him on the arm and walked away.

* * *

The match wasn't a devastating defeat, but once those dementors walked onto the field, the game was over. Through the rain and wind and noise, she could see Harry Potter fall and Oliver's face with him. She could see them all chase down after him, as if they could fall faster, but Headmaster Dumbledore slowed Harry's fall and chased and screamed and yelled away the dementors.

All the Gryffindor's walked into the locker room, and Elanor lingered behind in the stands, watching and counting to see everyone except Oliver leave. The Weasley's saw her lingering, just out of view from everyone else, and ran up to her.

"We were going to visit Harry in the hospital wing -" one started, exasperated from the recent events. It was still pelting rain and wind, and Elanor squinted at the twins to see them clearly.

"But I think someone should stay with Oliver."

"Is he okay?" _Not dating, not dating not dating not not not_, she reminded herself. _Just concerned. _

"He's still in the showers -"

"We think he's trying to drown himself."

"Oh, that's not good," Elanor said, starting towards the entrance. "Is - I didn't think he would act this bad. I mean, I thought he would be mad at himself but not -"

"We'll send Harry your wishes, Elanor. Comfort that sad sad Wood boy." Both twins laughing, they rushed right back up the hill to the castle, and, slowly, Elanor made her way into the locker rooms, a place she had been a handful of times with Oliver. It was mostly dark, the lights almost all turned off. It was cold, and steamy, and Elanor was still shaken from the dementors, but she heard Oliver in the shower room and followed the noises.

"Stupid! I should have made sure with Dumbledore, Hooch, anyone that the dementors wouldn't take the field! Think, Wood! Think! You let Hufflepuff win! Cedric! You let him catch the Snitch!" There were thumps amongst the running water, and Elanor assumed he had just punched the tile wall.

"Oliver?" she asked, turning the corner just before the showers. She was still wearing her raincoat and jeans underneath, a sweater pulled tight against her gloveless hands. Elanor knocked on the wall, looking through the steam. Oliver was standing, both hands propped up against the wall, head leaned against the wall as well. Water was dripping from most of the shower heads. Normally a very large presence, Oliver seemed small against all the steam, and his emotions right now were not normal. He was dejected, mad, angry, ready to fight.

"Oliver. Are you okay?" Elanor asked against, louder than before. Wood whipped around quickly, slipping on the tile, and falling straight on his behind with a shout. "Oh no!" she exclaimed, running into the room and slipping her way over to where Oliver had sat up, rubbing his back a little but laughing.

"You gave me a good scare there, Elanor!" His fists were red, his eyes were red, but he still smiled at her. She sat down next to him, the water drenching her through her clothes. The Ravenclaw placed her hand on his bare thigh and looked up at him, smiling a sincere look. She did not look at his bare body, because now was not the time to look at his penis, nor touch it, nor bring up the not dating bit.

He was silent for a long time, and placed his hand on hers but did not speak.

Finally, Elanor said, "It's just a loss. You guys can still win the cup! You just have to win against Ravenclaw and Slytherin! Right?"

"We can't beat your team, you guys are too good. But if Slytherin loses to Hufflepuff, maybe. It's kind of tight, the points." He tried to smile, moving his eyes to his left fist, the small drips of blood that pooled onto the tiles.

"Hey. Look at me, Oliver," Elanor said, moving his face to look at her. She pushed his chin up. "Chin up! Look forward. There's still the rest of the year. You guys can do it!"

He tried to smile, and his throat choked up. "You're killing me, Esp. Killing me. Came in here when I fell in all clothes to comfort me. You know how to make a man smile."

"And you know how to take clothes off. We both know that." Elanor's stomach bounced, jittery and alive with how Oliver was leaning into the hand that now touched his cheek, leaning towards her, squeezing and moving her other hand down down down his thigh.

"Here?" she breathed, kissing his neck and his cheeks and, slowly, his lips.

"Hooch is probably in a meeting with Dumbledore. Diggory wanted a rematch, didn't think it was fair - the dementors, Harry falling." He moaned as Elanor sucked deep on his collar bone, both of their hands fiddling with Elanor's drenched clothes.

"She's probably seen this before." Oliver laughed, bringing forth a memory less melancholy than this. "She's caught us before."

"Get the - get the - get the button undone," he huffed, moving her so that she was laying down, that he was on top of her. He was kissing her neck, and grabbing roughly at her hips and trying, and failing to undo the button on her pants. Shirt pulled up, pants off, hands everywhere. Her heart leapt into her throat, and he kissed it, sensing her anxiety and her need and his need and grabbed her wrist when she reached down towards her panties.

He smirked, which she couldn't see, and pinned her hand down into a pool of water. She sighed, looking down as he kissed kissed kissed down her bare chest, other hand massaging a breast and mouth moving towards a nipple and - "ooh."

"I didn't mean the thing about Cho," Oliver mumbled into her breast.

"Now? You're going to talk about this now, Oliver?" He pulled back from her, looked at her eyes, and nodded his head.

"I just think. I just think we should talk about this before we go any further." He gestured between their two wet and naked bodies, at her clothes scattered throughout the shower room.

"What do you want? Like, end goals? Life goals?" She sat up on her elbows, staring at his straddled form above her. "From this. From us."

"I like what we do. Between us. The dynamic. It's like riding a broomstick -"

"That's supposed to be my line. The broomstick line," Elanor said, smiling down at his penis against her thigh.

"I'm trying to be serious, here."

"Sorry, go ahead."

"I meant, that the way I feel around you, like when we go to Hogsmeade, or when we're at the library, or last summer, or here, I guess. It feels like a broomstick. Like a steep drop where it feels like my heart is leaving my body but bam, you're there."

"I'm the . . .broomstick?"

"Yeah. You catch me when I fall but you also make my heart go up in my throat," Oliver said, sitting back and grabbing her legs so they were across his lap. "Yeah. I guess you're the broomstick in this one."

She giggled, leaned back on the ground fully, and said, "Can't believe I'm the broomstick and I don't even have a stick. But yeah, you do that to me. Not the steep drop. But you make my heart go wild and catch me."

"Are we okay?" Oliver asked, moving back atop her, staring down into her blue eyes and moving her wet hair out of her face. She nodded. "Are we together? Do I get to pay you back for the two Butterbeers, a new hair pin, a nice tea, and a Charms essay? Or are we even?"

"Definitely not even, but you can work on paying me back after this." She pushed him over, turning him onto his back so she was the one straddling him. "I think I owe you some comfort from earlier. From losing the match, I mean." Before he could say another word, Elanor pushed her lips against his, moving his hands to grab her back, kissing him and thinking about the rest of the year and kissing kissing kissing.


	2. Chapter 2

"Exams are over! Exams are over! Gryffindor won the Cup! I am free! And ready for summer! And," Oliver said, rushing around Elanor and picking her up, swirling her around in the almost summer air, "Puddlemere United wrote me back for tryouts! They heard about my saves and the win of Gryffindor and want me for tryouts!"

Giggling, Elanor smiled, robes billowing behind her. She slapped Oliver's shoulders, saying, "Put me down, Wood! Or there won't be a ceremony for you before we leave! I'll feed you to the squid!"

Eyes wide with joy, mouth open big with a smile, hands still on Elanor's waist as he set her down, he said, baffled, "You told me he doesn't eat people! We went swimming in the lake, and you swore to me he doesn't eat people! What if he bit me?"

"Come off it, I was only joking. Plus, false reassurances were the only way to get you to go out into the lake with me."

Pouting, Oliver grabbed Elanor's hand and started to lead her away from the main courtyard, where other people were chatting and talking about the coming summer months. "Somebody didn't want to go alone."

"I know what else lives in the lake, is all," Elanor said, smirking as Oliver twisted back to face her, mouth agape. "The squid doesn't eat people. Plus, I don't think whatever else lives down there would be interested in you."

"You're so twisted, Esp," Oliver said, leaning back slightly on his heels to kiss her forehead. She blushed, squeezing his hand and began leading the way towards an alcove near the outside of the Ravenclaw Tower.

"It's a good thing Puddlemere United doesn't look at N.E.W.T scores. Someone told me a lie that he wasn't going to take them. But what did you do while I was in exams?" Elanor teased, leaning against the wall to sit down.

"I didn't study for them, but I took what I learned and put it on the table. Professor McGonagall was quite impressed, in fact!" Oliver said, smiling as he sat next to her, staring out at the grounds and the bright shining sun.

"She's hard to impress, I hear. But she was probably still happy you beat Slytherin for the Cup."

"Remember, that's all I'm good for. What are we at now? Six Butterbeers, another new book on the history of Spanish Magical Culture, at least five letters written throughout the next school year?"

"Sounds about right," she said, smiling and turning to look back at Oliver, who was also smiling and looking at her. He moved his hand to her cheek, pulling her close and kissing her, pressing her lips into his, wrapping his hand in Elanor's hair. He could feel her grasp the side of his robes, feeling for his hips. But their seating arrangement was, again, less than ideal. Elanor pushed him further against the wall, not moving her lips from his, and swung a leg across his hips. She was pulling and pushing and wanting, as if the divide between them had grown because of her focus on exams and his intense Quidditch practices.

"Would a ticket to the World Cup cover most of that?" he breathed after a short while, pushing her up to look at her. Elanor was breathing hard, excited and lustful and wanting. "I mean, I already got them. My dad did at least. He um, says thanks for making me take the N.E.W.T.s, and my mum didn't want to go. My dad will be there, as well. It won't be by any means private, but they like you, at least from what I've written. And I want you to go -"

"Shut up, Wood. Of course, I'll go with you. Though I don't care as much as you about Quidditch, I'll go. If you'll be there, I mean. And you would still owe me letters and a book, preferably about Spain."

Beaming, Oliver kissed her neck, muttering, "Why Spain?"

"I, um." Elanor pushed him away from her neck, looking at him. She sat back against his legs, blushing a little. "I um. Wrote to the Spainsh Ministry of Magic. About getting a position as an archivist there when I'm done with my Seventh Year. I obviously wrote it in Spanish, and got Flitwick to send them a transcript of my O.W.L. levels, and a letter of recommendation from Dumbledore."

"Okay. . .? What did they say? Why didn't you say anything sooner? This is good!" Oliver grabbed her shoulders and shook her, attempting to get her to say more.

"They want me to intern throughout the summer. But I bet they'll let me take off for the Cup. Especially if you already got the tickets. But my mum sent me some more clothes and said she was proud of me and _mi amor, esto es asombroso. Granada es hermosa y la comida es deliciosa. La historia!"_

"I only got about half of that, Elanor. You're going to Granada?" He looked shocked, but not a "I'm mad that you're leaving and flying across the sea and leaving me in England for a whole season" shocked. More a "I'm shocked that you didn't say anything before this and actually, Elanor, I am very proud of you and will visit you as often as practice allows (because there's no doubt that I'm getting on the Puddlemere United team) and I will! Come! Get! Food! With! You!"

"Shut up, Oliver," she said, shoving his shoulder and rolling off him to stare at the sky. Elanor was smiling, her skin shining, her brown hair spilled out behind her. She was happy. And so was he. "I don't want you to come if you're stressed with the Puddlemere team, because I also believe you'll get on it. I mean, you got punched in the stomach in the final! I felt that!"

"I still have the bruise!" He stood up, shoving his robes aside and lifting his shirt to show off the purple and yellow bruise. "Look at what those nasty Slytherins did to me! Esp! Look!"

"I know! I've seen it countless times. Put your shirt down. People will think we're snogging again."

"But we were!" He fell to the ground next to her, moving her hair out from underneath his arm. "We were snogging!" They both giggled, and Oliver grasped her hand. They laid in silence for a long time, watching the sun move towards the horizon. Soon it was time for dinner, and they would have to go. And tomorrow. Well, tomorrow was tomorrow.

"We're not just snoggers," he muttered, which caused a grin to spread across Elanor's face.

"I don't think snoggers is a word." Oliver grinned back at her, standing up, face bright with his smile. Elanor wasn't ready for love, but she was definitely in love with Oliver. She wouldn't say it, not yet. But that grin and those eyes and the way he made her heart flutter was enough.

"But we're not, right? You didn't confirm or deny it, Elanor."

"We only got so far as me being the broomstick. But I haven't done anything with any Quidditch player, or anyone else." Elanor grabbed Oliver's hand, stood up, and helped clean the grass stains off each other. They walked back to the castle together, talking.

"I haven't done anything with anyone else. Except! My hand," he said, shoving his hand across her face and waving it. "Exams were terrible! Elanor, you didn't speak to me outside of meals! It was terrible."

"Shove off! The hand doesn't count as a person." She pushed against him, smiling as they neared the entrance.

"I'm greatly offended. You've never said anything so negative about what my hand can do before!" Elanor made a low grumbling noise but didn't say anything else, a devious grin spread across her face. Yeah, she was happy. With whatever loomed in the future, Elanor was incredibly happy with Oliver.

* * *

They wrote a lot over the summer, Elanor and Oliver. They wrote as often as they could, especially since their time became a lot less free over the course of two weeks. Oliver had made the reserves team for Puddlemere United, and Elanor was swamped under summer work from Hogwarts and learning everything there was to know about the archives at the Spanish Ministry.

It didn't help that Oliver constantly wrote about how he missed her, and how Elanor did not know how to respond to that topic. So she didn't. Even when Oliver Apparated every few weekends to look around Spain with her. It didn't help at all. Because she did not know how to approach the subject of her missing him as well, or that she loved him, or that she was happy to meet both parents, as Oliver's mother changed her mind to join them for the World Cup at the end of the summer.

It didn't help that he knew every spot about her, everything that made her tick, every food she liked and what she wanted to drink and - "Oh. Okay. A little _oh Oliver," _Elanor moaned, gripping Wood's hair as he sucked and bit down Elanor's body, fingers pressing and gliding across her clit. The sun was low, and Elanor had had a long day at the Ministry to find Oliver Wood leaned against the wall of her apartment room, smirking and with a small bag on the floor next to him. He wasn't supposed to be in Granada into until week, when they left for the World Cup, and he was supposed to be having practice all weekend. At least, that's what he said.

"Oliver!" she yelled, running up to him and hugging him. "You - what are you doing here? I thought you had Quidditch? Oh, it's been such a long day, I missed you!" She had never said that to his face before. She appeared to be stoic about Oliver's absences, and had never said that she longed for him to be there with her in Spain.

He knew this. She knew this.

She stepped back, untangling her arms from him. Avoiding Oliver's shocked face, she grabbed his bag and unlocked her door. She didn't know what to say, but held the door open for him, letting him into her small one bedroom apartment, setting his bag on the table, and moving over to the kitchen.

"I'm making coffee. Today was kind of awful. Would you like any?" she said, filling the kettle with water and placing it on the stove top. Elanor glanced back at Oliver, but he was just quietly sitting on her couch, smirking like he was in on some secret.

She placed two cups on the counter and waited for the water to boil. Afterwards, she placed coffee grounds in a filter and waited, making coffee for both of them, adding just sugar to his and milk and sugar to hers. Elanor stood in the kitchen for a long time, wondering what he would say at Elanor's show of affection, show of longing for him. They still hadn't labeled themselves. Were still just "snogging but not just snoggers". She didn't know what to do. Didn't know how to broach the subject.

Elanor sat next to him, placed his cup on the table in front of him, and grabbed the other bag that was in his hand that she hadn't noticed. It was a brown paper bag with handles on it, and Elanor's birthday had been in the week prior with no mention from Oliver. At least, not that she had seen in his letter. The no mention of Elanor's birthday sent Elanor into a spiral of "we shouldn't be together, this is wrong. He doesn't have feelings for me."

"Oh no, not yet," he said, noticing her reaching and moving it out of the way. Oliver laughed loudly, and sent a jitter up her spine. Eyebrows raised, Elanor did not say anything else, just stared at the man next to her. "You missed me!" Oliver finally yelled, grin never leaving his face. "I knew you did!"

Elanor did not look at him and stared down at her coffee, holding it close to her stomach. "I -" she started, not really knowing where to start. "I thought saying I missed you would mean we were dating and I don't - I don't know how to go about that."

Oliver stood up rapidly, not touching his coffee still on the table and yanked hers out of her hand, moving it next to his. "You missed me, Esp! That's what we start with!" Oliver proceeded to pull her off the couch, spin her around like on the last day of exams, and laugh excitedly.

Oliver pulled Elanor down just slightly to kiss him, passionately and happily and without any care for the future. "You missed me," he whispered into her lips, smiling and kissing her down the neck and moving towards her bedroom.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," she muttered as she wrapped her legs around his hips. "It's kind of -"

"-hard for you to process your emotions and how they relate to what you see," Oliver finished, placing Elanor on the edge of her bed. He stood above her, smiling and smiling and smiling. "Babe, you're not that hard for me to read. We've known each other for ages. I know how you're feeling most of the time, at least when we're together."

"I'm not that great at it," she replied, laying back down at Oliver's gentle urging.

He straddled her and kissed her neck, saying, "That's okay. You're great at other things." Elanor could feel his smirk against her collarbone, could feel his hands grabbing and moving her hips, could feel him pressed against her thigh, could feel her heart beating aggressively against her chest, could feel his tongue moving around her neck, and her shirt lifting up and the apartment air cool against her body, which was now alit with Oliver's hands.

"Plus, I owe you a birthday gift beyond what I bought you," he mumbled, undoing her bra and kissing at her breasts and pulling his own shirt off.

"I thought you forgot," she whispered, because the air was thick with their breath and anything above a whisper felt like it would puncture the moment. They hadn't seen each other in over three weeks, and Elanor knew, at least from Oliver's letters, that they both had a lot of pent up lust and sexual energy built up. She wanted this. Elanor _wanted Oliver. _

"I would never, Elanor." Oliver leaned up as he spoke, looking mildly like he was nursing an injured ego. "You think so poorly of me?"

Elanor shook her head, adding, "Well, you didn't send anything with your letter, and didn't say _anything_. Even though you knew when it was. And then you showed up on my doorstep and looked really nice and I - I forgot that you forgot and was just very happy to see you."

Another large smirk crossed his face, and he kissed Elanor on the mouth, deep and wanting and yearning and saying, "I missed you too. But you already knew that. Now just lay back and enjoy."

Oliver kissed and kissed and licked and massaged and did not ask for anything in return. He knew every part that turned Elanor on, and he hit all of them. He slowly slowly slowly pulled off her skirt, mouth pressed deep into one of her breasts and nipping at her nipple. Elanor's hands were tangled in Oliver's unruly hair, tugging as he continued downwards too slow for her taste. Oliver was very good at teasing all of the heat out of Elanor's bite and was doing just that so she could relax.

His fingers fluttered around her underwear, tugging gently and moving passed them but not pulling them down. Oliver was already naked, and Elanor could see that his boyish grin was pack. She moved to pull down the panties for him, but he grabbed her hands and moved them out of the way. She huffed, feigning hurt, and laid back down. Elanor was not used to giving up her control, especially not with Oliver. She wanted to get there, wanted to not wait. But Elanor also enjoyed the way Oliver played, the way he pushed and pulling the right strings that he knew she needed yanked. And the way he moved, grinding hips and brushing her back lightly and biting hard and - "Oh!" sliding a finger into her and curling it to reach her _spot _that sent her hips arching upwards.

Oliver pushed her hips back down, slamming them into the mattress and keeping them from moving, even though she bucked _hard_. He moved back up to her neck, adding another finger and curling and uncurling and twisting and touching her walls and licking her collarbone and biting her shoulder and she continued to try and move his hand off her hip.

Elanor could feel his dick pressed against her thigh, slowly rocking against it as he wanted friction but wanted Elanor to be pleased more than himself. He moved it so that his member pressed lightly against her clit, brushing brushing brushing but not entering. "Oliver, please," she begged, eyes closed tight as she tried to adjust herself for him to enter, to move further than his fingers could reach.

"Not yet," Oliver muttered, moving himself away from her entrance as to not tempt either of them into tricking each other. He bite her ear, breathing heavily as she grinded against his hand, moving minutely and clenching and, "Azkaban, Oliver, please, I'm so -"

"You need to be patient. I think I've been doing this long enough to know when you're close. And we're not there yet." Oliver continued his movements against her, changing it so as to build the tension between Elanor and her release, and to keep her curling her toes and gripping at his hair and moaning - almost too loud for the apartment but stifled by a sound blocking charm made ages ago by Oliver.

Unbeknownst to Elanor, Oliver was so happy with her. So in love with her, that he was ecstatic upon her recent admittance of missing him, of her face pressed against her pillow, of her red cheeks and dark skin and hair spewed out beyond her. She was infinite and everlasting and beautiful and intelligent and - "Amazing," he murmured in her ear, pulling his hand out of her and moving his penis inside her. "Elanor, you're so amazing."

At his entrance, Elanor's eyes shot open and her legs wrapped around his back and she moaned so loudly that Oliver's smirk returned. Oliver brushed her hair out of her face, and cradled her cheek as he thrust in an out of her. She was squeezing and moaning and matching his thrusts now that his hands were off her hips. Elanor clenched hard and let out a long moan, orgasming and fingers scratching his back and eyes wide open and bit down on his shoulder.

"I love you so much," Oliver said, looking right at her as she came down. He had slowed down his thrusts to a stop and couldn't stop looking right at her. Elanor was breathing heavily and sweating. But she heard him.

She sat up, Oliver's still erect dick falling outside of her. Elanor pressed herself against the headframe, mouth agape and searching for words. "Oliver. I - I - I can't yet. I'm not ready."

"I know. It's okay," Oliver said, moving to sit next to her and holding her hand. "I just think I've felt this way for awhile. And I knew you weren't ready but I'm so happy for you. As a person." He paused, looking at her. Elanor's breathing had returned to normal, but she wasn't looking at him. There was something in her eyes that was . . . apprehensive of sorts.

"I don't want you to tell me you love me until you're ready. And I know we aren't, like dating. But I think. I think we are, Elanor. We have been doing these things and I like snogging with you, and sex. But I also enjoy spending time with you. I _love _spending time with you, and reading your letters, and hearing about your day, and about what you're reading, and about _you_."

"Oliver. I can't say it. I mean, I enjoy doing everything with you, too. But I don't think I'm ready. I'm -"

"Are you scared? What are you scared of? I'm not going to hurt you. I promise, Elanor. I'm not going to hurt you, ever." Oliver had cradled her face in both hands, and she was crying, very quietly. But she wasn't speaking. "Elanor. I care about you so much. I never want to hurt you, and it's okay if you're not ready, or if you're scared, we don't have to label anything. But I want you to know how I felt before anything happens."

Elanor nodded, pressing his hands further into her cheeks, seeking his warmth, his comfort. She wasn't ready for love but she cared about Oliver so much. "You're my broomstick, Esp. You keep me afloat and catch me from falling."

"I think. . . I think I do want to keep seeing you. I mean, of course I do. I want to date you, and be official. But I want to take things slow -"

"Elanor, we just had sex, again, for the umpteenth time. That's not slow."

"I meant _emotionally."_

Oliver smirked, kissed her on the lips again, and stood up. "Elanor, I will keep up with you however fast you want to move. Or however slow." He grabbed her hands, pulled her off the bed, and said, "Your coffee is getting cold. Come tell me about what happened at work today."


	3. Chapter 3

"If we're quick, and I'm quiet," Oliver whispered, voice hot in Elanor's ear, "we can get a quickie in while my parents get drinks with their friends. And then we can go join them, if you'd like? Plus, I rather like that Muggle outfit on you. Or off you, that is."

Elanor turned towards Oliver, smiling, and trying hard to hide the flushing of her face. "Oliver, we had sex right before we left. Can't you wait?"

"You weren't wearing this outfit this morning!" he whined. "Plus, the match doesn't start until later. We can go flirt - I mean talk to the Weasley's. Bill and Charlie are in, I hear. Or that's what Ron said when we saw him earlier."

"I told you that crush in confidence!" Elanor said, whacking Oliver with her bag and smiling. She was happy all the Weasley's were in, especially the older two. They were intelligent, good Quidditch players, and they came from a line of notoriously handsome relatives, and she liked anything they spoke about. Curses and dragons and far off lands. Maybe they would like to hear about the ancient Granada, land of the Moors. "Plus, we just had this conversation last week. You never left my apartment, so I think we've had this conversation about ten times since then, huh?"

"Maybe I'd like to see you with one of them?" Oliver added, moving through a throng of people with Elanor in tow. "Is that allowed? They're not on a Quidditch team anymore. I'd share you bloody Krum if you wanted to."

"That would be a story for the Puddlemere team, wouldn't it?" she snickered, thinking of the joke that one of his mates would say. "'Hey, bloke, my girl and I went to the World Cup. Yeah, it was bloody amazing! But, get this, we got Krum to sleep with both of us!'"

Oliver blushed himself a deep red color at the thought, and, when he turned a corner around another row of tents, Elanor could see his hard on in the glowing sun, which made her beam with delight. It turned Elanor on as much as Oliver did at the thought of her giving him pleasure, whether it be with her mouth or with another man.

"I think it all depends on how your family is with what you have showing through your pants, huh? They would be less keen on leaving us alone with you packing that wand in your pants."

Oliver stopped his deliberate walking, which caused Elanor to bump into him. He turned, smiled at her, and said, "Even if they don't leave, we can be quiet after the match, can't we?"

"I know I can, but after the match Krum will surely be exhausted from catching the Snitch and winning, don't you think?"

Oliver leaned in close to her, grabbing her by the waist with one hand and the other gravitating underneath her green dress and grabbing her ass, and made one slow, intentional grind into her. "We don't have to extend the olive branch this time." Luckily, the entire tent sleeping area was crowded with people, all moving in different directions, all sporting different colors, all bumping and tossing each one away, that no one could see the two of them intertwined.

Elanor stood on her tiptoes and kissed Oliver long and hard, whispering against his lips, "And someone told me they also had a crush on a Weasley."

"I told you that one in confidence!" Oliver laughed, pushing against Elanor's shoulder as she had earlier. Together, they walked towards their tent, where they spent the remaining time with Oliver's parents, laughing and talking and drinking and spectating about the match that was ahead of them. On the way towards the match, they bought souvenirs and pins and drank more.

Elanor had never really been to a professional Quidditch game before the World Cup, and was surprised by the masses that would push and pull her away from the Wood's if it weren't for Oliver's strong grip on her arm. Elanor was drunk on all the drinks given to her, and tried to focus on where they were going. A part of her was apprehensive with the darkness and the large throng of people moving towards their seats. There was something in the air, something thick and tense with the Muggles at the entrance and the money changing hands in the shadows.

However, once the match began, Elanor lost her sight of the tensity and looked downwards at the match happening, and cheered for Krum and stared too long at the Veela for the Bulgarian team. She wanted Ireland to win, of course, but Krum's skills were unmatched by Ireland's Seeker. The stands pressed down on them, and Elanor's voice was hoarse, and she was unbelievably happy with Oliver and his family.

* * *

Despite the exhaustion that had settled in their bones from the long day of travel and excitement, Elanor and Oliver could not sleep. Somehow, Oliver had talked his parents into letting the two of them sleep in the separate room of the tent, on the other side of the kitchen, from Oliver's parents. Apparently, it wasn't that difficult, as his mother and father saw him as an adult now, and they liked Elanor. At least, that's what Oliver had jokingly said after they had set up the tent.

But now they were intertwined on a small bed, the outside world still rejoicing from the match and Ireland's win. Elanor was still slightly drunk off all the shots that Oliver's parents and their friends had offered her. Oliver, knowing what alcohol did towards Elanor's sex drive, was glad when everyone had left the fire outside towards their own tents, fighting off exhaustion and still bubbling with excitement.

"That was a bloody good match," Oliver said, sitting on the bed next to her. "Those mascots were something else, especially when the Veela turned all wicked and started fighting the leprechauns."

Elanor giggled, loud and high pitched, and Oliver shushed her, aware of how loud she could be while intoxicated. "I can't believe that the - that the referee from Egypt had to get in on it. He was so flustered with their charms - with their unnatural beauty that he literally wasn't doing his job." She giggled again, less loud, halfway undressed and laying down on the double bed. She had given up undressing, as Oliver had, and was staring at him.

"You're drunk, Elanor," he whispered, laying down next to her and touching her face, moving her hair a little away from her eyes.

"I know. But I think you're pretty grand. I mean, no Krum, but you're not a Seeker. So they're separate categories, aren't they?"

"I loaned you my copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_. Did you even read it?"

Drunkliy angered, Elanor sat up. "'_Did you even read it?'_" Elanor said with a mocking tone. "Of course, I fucking read it, Wood. What the hell? Why would you say I didn't read it." She got up out of bed, grabbing her robe thrown on the floor. She moved about very haphazardly, and Oliver gaped at her from across the room. She kept mumbling, "'Did you even read it?'" and huffing as she sat on the floor at the edge of the bed, rummaging through her bags. He couldn't quite see her from where he was, and he was too startled to move off the bed.

"Elanor, what are you doing?"

"Of course, I read _Quidditch Through the Ages, _you bimbo." She stood up, two books in her hands. One had magical sports written across it in gold lettering, and another was thick with lightning etched across the top. She threw the magical sports book at him, which he caught, then sat back on the floor with her thick book.

"Elanor, get off the floor. I'm sorry," he said, moving towards the edge of the bed. She had opened her book to a beautiful drawing of a Thunderbird, an animal native to the United States, and was staring at it. "It was a joke. You can tell me about the Thunderbird, if you want."

Elanor smiled, eyeing him out of the corner of her eye, and closed the book. "I knew you were joking." She stood rather quickly, too quickly, and swayed a little. Oliver grasped her arms, setting her back into bed. She laid down immediately, and grasped Oliver's arm when he went to shut the lantern off. "Keep it on, please. I'm not tired yet." She was smiling at him, however lazily. Oliver began kissing her, slow and sweet and deep, and filled with the love Elanor knew he had for her.

"We don't have to do anything, right now," Oliver said, settling over her. "If you don't want to."

"I would like to. Plus, everyone outside is still ragging on with their own parties. We can go for a bit." She smiled at him as she pulled his head down to hers, kissing deeply and full of excitement.

"Thunderbirds are pretty cool, though. They can sense danger, and can create storms," she mumbled against his lips. He smiled down at her, muttering for her to continue as he kissed her neck. "People in the United States worship them, I guess. For their ability to sense danger. It's a warning system. They probably also worshipped them for storms, because rain equals good crops. But too much rain means floods."

"Do you want to see one?" Oliver asked, pulling away from her face and looking into her eyes. "Like, are they alive still?"

"They're in America, Oliver," she said, moving her hips up to meet his, causing him to close his eyes and groan slightly.

"We can go, maybe, once you graduate." Oliver kissed her again, deeper and longer. His hands were untying her robe now, running his hands up and down her sides.

"I'd like that."

"It's a promise, then," he mumbled. Elanor had put her hands on his bare back, racking her nails against his skin. He was kissing her neck, massaging a breast, touching Elanor like only he knew how. He kissed deeply against her collar bone, sucking, and Elanor gasped quietly, mouth agape and pressing her chest up to meet the hand that was on her breast.

"We have to be quiet," Oliver said, which Elanor hastily nodded to. "There's a lot to do in America."

"I think New York would be pretty cool. There's a lot of native animals in the United States, which we don't have here. Newt Scamander lived there for a while."

Elanor had enough of laying on her back and nudged Oliver onto his back. He smiled, breath coming out quickly. "What's been the motivator for this recent love for magical animals?" Oliver asked, as Elanor pushed him back, kissing down his chest and moving his pants down down down.

"One of my mentors at the Spanish Ministry, Catalina, she has these paintings," Elanor began. "She brought some in last week, I forgot to mention. They're Muggle paintings, she said." The Ravenclaw moved up kissing Oliver's chin and lips and pushing a hand against his penis, hard and warm. He rocked against her hand, moaning softly. "So they don't move, but they were gorgeous. One of them was a phoenix and there was a mermaid. It really made me think about how Muggles see these wild animals, see things that they may not understand. And they see the beauty and the horror in them, like the Thunderbird, or a Thestral if that's something they can see."

Oliver was grinning, and his hand was moving underneath Elanor's underwear. He glanced a finger against her clit, resulting in a soft gasp, and slipped the finger inside her, adding more as she became accustomed to his fingers. After a moment, she was riding his hand gently, while also stroking him. Her mouth was agape, thighs twitching with anticipation and barely holding her up.

"I never thought of them like that. Hell, I just thought Hagrid liked weird fucking creatures when I took his class," Oliver whispered between deep breathes.

"He does like weird creatures, though. That book he made us get last year was terrifying."

Oliver paused in his movements, moving Elanor's hand away from him, and sat up. He shifted Elanor to sit on his lap, allowing him to kiss her deeply while moving himself into her, making Elanor clamp her mouth onto his shoulder to keep from crying out. She was so snug, so warm, so perfect against him, that he almost came immediately. Hell, they had sex that morning, but each moment they had with each other was perfect, in his eyes.

Oliver placed his hands on her ass, lifting her up and down, helping her move up and down as she tried desperately to stifle her moans. Oliver's face was permanently in a smile now, as he watched her, eyes screwed tight, hands on his shoulders, body squeezing against him. He was close, and he loved her, and she knew it.

There was a scream, distant but near enough to be heard. Oliver stopped immediately, placing a hand over Elanor's mouth, his eyes wide and a finger pressed against his lips. Another, a little closer. The noises of the partying had ended, but it seemed like that had flowed straight into screams of terror, of people running passed the tent and hitting the sides; it couldn't be riot against Ireland winning, because that should have started soon after the match ended.

Oliver removed his hand from Elanor and slid out of her, grabbing his wand and his pants, and throwing Elanor her dress. Quickly, the two of them ran outside to chaos. To screams and flashes of magic and "Those are the Muggles of the campsite, Oliver!" Elanor said, pointing at floating figures coming closer. Oliver's parents emerged from their tent, gaping and in various states of undress.

"Mum, Dad, Apparate!" Oliver shouted, grabbing Elanor and they were gone, twisting and spinning in the nonworld of Apparation. The world stopped spinning and they were again in Granada, in Elanor's now empty apartment, her having moved out the day before. "Stay here, I have to go help!"

"Oliver!"

But he had already left, leaving Elanor in her old apartment to wait until he returned. He had though Granada as safe, her apartment as safe, her as safe. Her as safe.

"Oh, fuck, I think I love him," Elanor whispered, hand over her mouth, cutting back a frightened sob from the campsite, at the realization that there could be love from her, at the realization that Oliver was in love with her - bringing Elanor here to her apartment as a safe placed proved that.


End file.
